


Wayhaven Week 2020 Prompts

by rosejelly



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/F, here to provide that wlw content for Wayhaven Week, we're here and we're queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25234984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosejelly/pseuds/rosejelly
Summary: All works for Wayhaven Week will be posted here.Warnings and ratings will change per each prompt.
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Comments: 35
Kudos: 43
Collections: A series of familiar letters





	1. between dawn and dusk

“i was never one for sunrises,   
until i saw you,    
half covered in the dawn, 

half covering me.”    
_ \- Jessica Katoff  _

Ava has always lived her life in the comfort of dusk. 

When the shadows stretch long against the sidewalk, red streaking across the sky, her dulled senses come to life. Her eyes focus, her shoulders drop. The pinched furrow between her brows smooths out, and she walks easier, glides more confidently, her body easing into the protective shade of the shadows. 

The cool breeze of dusk gives her strength. She finds solace and comfort in the safety of faded blue twilight, chasing after the red sunset. 

Iris steps into her life like the afternoon sun, blazing and glaring and intrusive. Her brightness is stubborn and unyielding in her refusal to back down from Ava’s presence, in her fight for justice, her ever-frustrating pursuit of truth. Ava doesn’t understand why the others circle around her, bathing in her light, when they used to have no trouble keeping to themselves. She seemingly has nothing in common with them, and yet, she draws them in. 

Somehow, Ava can’t stop herself from stealing furtive glances. She’s merely curious, she reminds herself, just curious about the cases Iris handles, the routine she keeps, the strange, foolish ways she willingly puts herself in danger despite how timid she usually is, the way her features soften and glow in the sunlight —

_ Yeah, just curious.  _

She knows she has to look away before she hurts herself, but she can’t bring herself to do it. No matter where Iris is in the room, or what she’s doing, her gaze always falls back to her, like a compass needle to the south. 

By the time Ava realises she’s drawn to her light, it’s far too late. 

She’s cradling Iris’s head in her hands, rainwater plastering Ava’s dark blonde hair to her face. It washes away the blood from Iris’s body, but she looks paler, more lifeless without it. 

It seizes her with a fear she’s not familiar with. 

“Wake up,” she commands, but she can feel the heat behind her words dimming. It sounds more like a plea. “Stay awake.” 

There’s a familiar, annoyed gleam reflected in Iris’s eyes as they struggle open.    
  
“Still trying to order me around?” she croaks, a wry smile crooking her lips, the scraped off remnants of her red lipstick looking stark and violent against her colourless lips. Ava’s fingers twitch against her cold skin, her shoulders sagging in relief though her face scrunches up, brows furrowed tight. 

“It’s an order you have to obey,” she demands, even though her panicked look betrays her even tone. “Detective - ” 

When Iris makes a pained wince, the light in her eyes fading against her will, Ava is crushed by a feeling she can’t place. The shadows of the warehouse only highlight how pale and drawn her face is, the dark circles under her eyes, the ashen grey of her cheeks. It’s like the night itself crawled into her body, making its home where the sun used to be. 

Ava’s never been afraid of the night before.   
  


* * *

  
The two month break gives Ava time to think and sort herself out. The first month is probably the worst; the empty space Iris has left behind leaves a bigger gap than she thought. Even the team feels restless when they should have gone back to normal. They’re having a break of sorts; just paperwork and patrolling and spare time spent together in a nice, almost-home. 

It feels like they’re all waiting for someone else to come back home. 

The sun blazes across the ground when Iris arrives; Ava stands near the window despite the sunlight, absolutely  _ not  _ waiting for a silver hatchback to come rolling down the road. She bristles much too hard at Farah’s teasing, her golden eyes shining at Ava’s obvious tell. She almost blanches at the way her thoughts drift back to her so insistently, if not for the rest of the team bustling around the sitting area, just as anxious to see the detective again. 

It’s normal. Iris is a part of the team now. It’s completely normal to think of her. 

When she steps through the door, a tentative smile on her face, soft black curls bouncing on her shoulders, the noon sun warming Ava’s skin is nothing compared to her presence. All of her senses, every single cell and nerve ending frizzles, calls out to her, and Ava’s hungry gaze takes and takes and takes. 

When Iris’s eyes meet hers, bright and bold and glittering like nothing ever happened, Ava feels like she’s directly hit by the blazing sun; heat searing through her senses and making her feel a little weak and breathless. 

She presses her fingers hard into her palm, thankful for centuries of practice that allows her to have a passing poker face. She straightens, body easing into a firm stance, hands clasped behind her back, shoulders stiff.    
  
“Welcome back,” she says, satisfied that her voice doesn’t falter, even if it does sound softer than usual. 

Her amused chuckle rings like a bell. “It’s nice to know you’ve missed me so much.” The gentle teasing makes Ava forget her defenses for a minute, and a soft sigh escapes her as she basks happily in Iris’s smile, in the way she’s drifting closer to her as she speaks. 

“Who says I haven’t?”  
  
She feels the words escape her before she can take them back. Iris’s brows shoot up, pink lips parting in surprise, and Ava turns to the window so quickly she almost gives herself whiplash.

The meeting starts; mercifully, no one notices her slip up and Iris doesn’t bring it up. Ava’s senses still linger attentively on her, subconsciously. The moment Murphy is brought up, she can hear Iris’s breath stutter, her fingers discreetly digging crescent-shaped indents into her thighs. The warm light in her dark eyes has dimmed, fading. Her shoulders are up around her ears, and Ava’s not sure if she’s trying to protect or hide the fading scar on her neck. 

She’s by her side instantly, arms folded to hide her twitching fingers, wondering if she should reach out. It doesn’t matter; when Iris glances up at her, her rabbiting heart rate slows, her shoulders untense, and the instinctive way she leans towards Ava makes her feel something she didn’t think she would.    
  
She frowns, but Iris looks much better, the colour returning to her cheeks. Ava shrugs the feeling off, crossing and uncrossing her arms firmly, trying to return her attention to Rebecca. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Ava can see a head of curls bouncing as Iris scoots closer to her. She doesn’t move from that position for the rest of the meeting, and the fact that Iris takes comfort from her presence makes pride bloom, like a fierce, fiery flower, inside her chest.   
  


* * *

  
The day Ava finally dares to hold Iris, hands trembling, eyes wondering, Iris falls into her arms like she’s always belonged there. 

Ava is by her side whenever she’s in danger, her sword and shield, even though she knows the detective is more than capable of finding a way out herself. She can’t help but linger close, hovering and protective, making sure no one else has a chance to dim her light when her back is turned. 

Ava still has the habit of stealing glances when she can, even though Iris is hers and her heart belongs to no one else. She watches her out of the corner of her eye guiltily, shifting away when Iris turns to look in her direction. 

Iris isn’t a detective for nothing; she always feels the burn of yearning green eyes grazing over her form, but she lets Ava observe in her own quiet way, unwilling to scare her away by pointing it out. So Ava watches. 

She notices the way Iris shuffles the reports on her desk, fingers deftly whipping through stark white pages, always stacking her ring binders in this order: red, black, red. She sees the way Iris chatters good-naturedly to the baker, her beverage order embedded in Ava’s head, clearer than her own name.  _ Hey Hayley, how’s it going? Vanilla latte with soy milk, please.  _

She sees Iris pause to eye the little apple pies in the display case longingly, though she never buys one. (Ava always shuffles up afterwards to buy them for her, flushing at the knowing glint in Hayley’s eye when she hands them over, already packed into a little takeaway box. Iris’s delighted gasp and kiss afterwards is worth it, even though she chastises Ava lightly for buying them all the time.) 

She sees Iris weave her way into the team, almost seamlessly. Iris nervously avoids Morgan’s sneer and smoky glares, but immediately builds a dark, quiet fort in her office when Morgan is suffering from sensory-overload migraines. She teases Nat about crashing her laptop with viruses, then shares her precious apple pie with her when she slumps into her chair, defeated by technology yet again. She sees Iris pranking Farah, hinting about a unicorn in the woods when it was really just a mossy, horse-shaped rock with a sharp edge, then guiltily watching several episodes of My Little Pony with her when she cries with disappointment. 

Ava watches, and watches, and watches, and this hollow ache in her chest is unfamiliar. Iris is so incredibly mortal, her life so fleeting in comparison to Ava’s. Ava feels like if she blinks, she’ll miss a whole part of her life. 

So when Iris throws her head back in laughter, when she nudges Ava with a teasing smile, when she slides her hands into Ava’s and brings them to her lips, Ava looks at her like she’s the only thing in the room worthy of her attention, greedy eyes taking in any and every detail of her. She knows when this moment passes, they will never be here again. A hundred years later, this moment would only be alive in her mind’s eye, a five second snapshot of Iris’s presence, a memory of how sunlight felt on her skin. 

She knows, and she accepts it. 

  
But deep in the night, she slides into a bed she has no use for so she can hold Iris against her while she rests, their legs entangled together in the sheets. She buries her nose into the back of Iris’s neck and soaks in her scent, listens to her heartbeat slow, her quiet snoring rumbling. When Ava falls asleep with Iris, her buried emotions burst to the surface, like a buoy she’s been holding underwater for too long. She clutches Iris’s limp body to hers like a frightened child, her fears and guilt staining her dreams, leaking out of her in pained growls and hitched, wet gasps. 

Yet somehow, even in deep sleep, Iris manages to sense her distress. She flips over to pull Ava’s head to her chest, fingers threading through nightmare-tangled curls, mumbling nonsensical comforting words.    
  
“Don’t be sad, I’ll go with you. I’ll go to Target with you.”    
  
“Shh, shh, the giraffes will come back, Ava. I know they will.”    
  
“I’m here, love.” This one has Ava stilling in surprise. It actually sounds genuine. “I’m here, and ready to party.” And there it is. “Where are the spices?” 

The most recent one takes the cake.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll catch the man who stole your heart,” she says somewhat coherently, in such a solemn, professional tone that Ava actually snorts out loud, her nightmare forgotten, and it startles Iris awake.

It takes Ava a moment to smother her laughter, gently coaxing a grumpy Iris back to sleep with several forehead kisses. 

She nuzzles her way into Ava’s strong neck, small hands fisting into Ava’s tank top to pull her closer. She would’ve never been able to move Ava, much less when she’s half-asleep, so Ava shifts willingly, pulled into Iris’s orbit until she can safely encase her detective in her arms. Their hair spreads out and tangles together in the pillows, Ava’s dark gold waves weaving into the heavy black curls. Her hand slips under Iris’s checkered pyjama top, palm resting against her back, warm and heavy. She lays there, calmed by the rise and fall of Iris’s breathing, smiling at the sleepy, snuffly noises she makes as she wriggles closer into Ava’s warmth. 

The morning sun slips in through the curtains, a rectangular pink and golden beam of light dancing on Iris’s cheek. Ava lifts her hand, fingers gently brushing across it, dipping into the light.

Iris makes a soft grumble, eyelids fluttering open. 

Ava freezes, fingers ready to retreat, but when their eyes meet, the dopey, sleepy grin that Iris gives makes her stare, breathless. Her lips instinctively lift into a little smile, green eyes soft and misty. She forgets what she was so afraid of. 

It feels like dawn breaking over her skin, warm and soft, brand new. 


	2. Day 2: feral/tender

  
If Ava’s love was an animal,   
it would be  
feral 

it’s always been dormant,  
asleep for a millennium 

now,  
it’s biting,  
clawing,  
snarling,  
hungry, _always_ hungry

it could see you once  
or a hundred times,  
it could see you never,  
and still think of you  
all-consuming,  
salivating at the thought of eating you alive

every turn it’s denied  
it bristles with fury  
and ugly possession

_what use is a love like this?_

you reach out to touch it, and she stops you  
her indifference masks her fear  
for this rabid animal  
sitting heavy in her chest  
her ribs the only thing caging it in

it roars to life when you are near,  
pacing restlessly to the beat of her thundering heart  
she wraps it in desperate chains of glass  
and it _spits_ at her  
for doing naught

all she can do is  
warn you,  
urge you,  
_beg_ you,

**“Don’t.”**

but still, you draw closer.  
  
so she waits,  
waits for your touch to implode her  
for the feral beast  
to sink its teeth  
into her mangled heart  
and she wonders  
if she has enough time to apologise  
before it devours you _both—_

but it doesn’t. 

it simply curls up under your fingers,  
pleased and placated,  
tender  
tender  
_tender_

-


	3. Day 3: Abyss

_A's unwritten love letter_

  
My love, 

I’ve seen the sky turn red a thousand times  
The clouds race past   
Doused in silver light   
I stand here perched   
On the edge of the abyss   
And I still can’t say   
I love you

The moon turns its face a thousand times   
I’ve seen empires rise and die  
Your face is just one   
In a hundred thousand   
And I can’t admit   
I love you 

Your name sits low   
On the edge of my tongue   
Your touch scalds hot   
And aches when you’re gone   
There’s no other warmth comparable to yours   
And I’m afraid to say   
I love you 

When you’re nothing but dust  
And a marble slab   
Will I sit by it   
Will my soul regret   
Will the sky bleed red a thousand more times   
Before I say   
I love you  


Can I fall into the abyss to find you there    
Will you pause before the promised land   
Will you wait till I can hold your hand   
And I’ll cry,   
  
I love you!  
I  _ love _ you,    
**_I love you._ **


	4. Day 4: Tranquil

_ for Morgan _

  
The silver eyed wolf   
Comes to me   
To seek a moment of tranquility 

She willingly pays   
The kiss I charge  
For an hour of vulnerability 

We perch on roofs,   
Like a pair of crows  
To watch the world go by 

And when the night grows cold   
The wolf   
She holds me to her side 

The silver eyed wolf has a jagged smile   
Jagged eyes   
and jagged hair   
But when she curls into my arms   
There’s only ragged breaths

She shrouds herself in billowing smoke,   
She thinks it hides her sorrow  
She has a bad habit of stealing kisses   
She says it’s only to borrow 

This grumpy wolf   
Thinks she’s hungry   
For something she can eat  
But she lingers by my bed   
Confused   
Unaware that she can leave 

We sit on rooftops, breathing    
Moonlight soaking into our skin    
She drapes herself all over me    
Covers me in gentle sin 

She confesses her undying love   
Without a single sound   
I know I’ll guard those silver eyes   
Until the life in me   
runs out 


	5. Day 5: forgiveness

Ava is mad at Iris. 

She’s not made eye contact with the detective for the past eleven hours. Whenever Iris tries to talk to her, she turns away with a grunt. When Iris sees her in the warehouse, Ava walks out of the room, conveniently pretending her hyper senses don’t work when Iris calls her name. 

Ava has broken seventeen things in total since Iris pissed her off, which includes the wine glasses, the kitchen tap, her phone,  _ Nat’s _ phone (she borrowed it and somehow broke that too), and the wood-panelled floor (she stormed so hard she almost fell through to the sub-basement). 

Okay, so she wasn’t mad. She was furious. Livid. Seething. Enraged. 

It’s not really Iris’s fault (it is).

So she stood up to a few rabid little Furby-looking monsters. How was she supposed to know that they turned into distorted, terrifying, fire-breathing harpies? 

To Iris’s credit, though, she did manage to save a couple of unaware residents from what they thought was a minor forest fire. The fire department (albeit late) was able to save the buildings from being completely burned to ashes. She’s got everything under control, and escaped with only several first-degree burns. 

All in all, she would say the mission was a resounding success. 

Ava doesn’t think so. 

Of course she wouldn’t. She’s the one who insisted Iris stay behind, even when she spied innocent civilians wandering a little too close to the harpy’s nest. She’s the one who insisted Iris have the fire department on speed dial, stay  _ out _ of the way, to plan an attack from her “vantage point”. 

What’s Iris going to do, facetime Farah so she can tell what’s going on? 

She chose to respectfully decline, and make sure none of the Wayhaven residents turned into dinner for a family of harpies. She had unleashed a fire extinguisher right into a harpy’s open beak, a stroke of genius, really. When she stepped out of the white cloud of carbon dioxide, triumphant, she swore Ava’s crushing glare was worse than any angry, fire-breathing harpy. 

She’s paying the price for that decision now. She has been regretfully Ava-less, and worse,  _ kiss-less, _ for the past day. 

She’s determined to get Ava’s forgiveness. 

It’s slightly frustrating, however, to get Ava’s attention with her height. At five feet one (that one inch is especially important), Ava can easily ignore her presence, even when they’re forced into the same room together. All she has to do is  _ not _ look down. 

Both of them know that once Ava makes eye contact with Iris, all Iris has to do is to widen her round, dark eyes and offer a genuine apology, then ask very politely for a kiss. 

And Ava will crumble.

Iris needs to be taught a real, harsh lesson about disobeying Ava’s direct order. Thus,  _ not _ out of spite, Ava has been staring straight ahead, ignoring the head of black curls bouncing around her peripheral vision, the grumpy huffs coming from below her eye line. 

Iris needs a new plan of attack. 

She asks Nat for help, who listens bemusedly when she’s changing Iris’s gauzes, and says, “Ava can be stubborn, but she’s not impossible to talk to. To understand her, all you have to do is get on her level.” 

Iris mulls it over, teeth scraping over her bottom lip in thought. 

“Oh! I’ve got it,” she blurts, eyes gleaming. “But I’ll need something of yours, please.” 

Nat tilts her head, curious. “What is it?” 

When Iris tells her, Nat has to turn away so she can hide her expression. She tilts her head back, takes in a long, deep breath, before she turns to Iris with a shaky smile and shows her what she needs.   
  


* * *

  
Ava is busy in the library with armfuls of books, sorting the ones relevant to their case, and taking out the ones that require an update. She’s deep in thought, so she doesn’t acknowledge the familiar footsteps next to her, or the strange sound of something unfolding and snapping into place. 

She turns, eyes fixed firmly ahead, ready to brush by Iris nonchalantly (pettily). She turns, and she stares straight into bright, glittering brown eyes, and a sweet smile. 

Ava looks down, for the first time in fourteen hours. 

Iris is perched on top of a little wooden stepladder, looking mighty pleased with herself. She takes one step closer to Ava, stumbles, and Ava drops all her books to catch her instinctively. She steadies herself on Ava’s strong arms, then her head pops up, smile bright, cheeks flushed. 

“Ava!” she exclaims, her voice high and delighted when she realises she has Ava’s full attention. Ava swallows hard against the traitorous thump of her heart.    
  
She grips Iris’s waist, lifts her from the precarious stepladder, and sets her carefully on the ground. Before Iris can say anything, Ava sidesteps her, ignoring the scattered books on the ground (her need for order is screaming at her), and walks briskly to the library’s exit. 

She hears Iris blowing a raspberry, disappointed, and the sound of the stepladder squeaking as it’s being packed up. Ava exhales, pushing through the door, thinking she might have given up. The sudden pattering of footsteps behind her makes her pause, and she glances back. 

Iris is following closely behind her, stepladder tucked under her arm. Her disgruntled look melts into a smile again when Ava stops, and she pulls out the stepladder to unfold it. 

Ava whirls away in disbelief, her strides faster and more meaningful now. She immediately hears the pattering of Iris’s oxfords against the floor, and it seems to be getting closer. 

She chances a peek over her shoulder. Iris is a little distance away, unable to keep up with Ava’s long strides. However, she has a frighteningly determined expression on her face, brows furrowed, round lips pursed. She lifts the stepladder over her head, and breaks into a sprint. 

A  _ sprint. _

Ava flees out of pure instinct, and all that’s in her head is  _ What  _ and  _ Why am I running?  _

She bursts through the sitting room and crosses two hallways in a second, darting into one of the private offices of the warehouse, heart thundering wildly in her chest. She’s not used to being prey,  _ she’s never been prey _ ; this adrenaline-laced anxiety might actually kill her. 

Peeking out through the little window of the office door, she sees Iris standing in the middle of two hallways, stepladder still sitting on her head as she turns her head this way and that, trying to figure out where Ava went. 

Ava is going to find out who gave Iris that stepladder, and skin them alive. 

Iris’s sharp eyes lock in onto the correct hallway, and Ava’s heart drops.  _ Damn her detective skills. _ She presses herself to the wall as the footsteps draw closer, terrifyingly slow. Soon, the stepladder sails past the window, and further down the hallway. 

Ava lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She peels herself off the wall, feeling slightly embarrassed about the fear ebbing through her. Rolling her shoulders back, she tries to retain some semblance of self-respect. 

The door bursts open, and Ava lets out a very un-Ava-like shriek. 

Iris lights up like a lantern once she sees her stunned Commanding Agent, and wastes no time backing her up against the wall, lifting the stepladder from her head. She shakes it out in one sharp movement, settles it carefully at Ava’s feet, and clambers up. The stepladder wobbles, so Iris steadies herself by placing her hands on Ava’s shoulders, ignoring Ava’s spluttering, open-mouthed expression. 

“Ava!” she sings, giving her a glossy pink grin. There’s a strand of hair stuck to her gloss, and Ava resists the burning urge to pull it away from her mouth and tuck it behind her ear. The top of her usually fluffy hair is flat from balancing the stepladder on her head. Ava doesn’t know whether to find it endearing or just stupid. 

She folds her arms across her chest tightly, green eyes glowering. Iris takes the hint, and lowers her gaze, smile dimming. 

“I’m really sorry, Ava.” She peeks up at her through her dark lashes, and Ava rolls her eyes at her obvious wheedling, even as her heart betrays her with a low thump. “I know I made you worry, but I handled it.” 

“ _ Did _ you?” Ava scoffs incredulously, looking pointedly at Iris’s gauze-wrapped forearms. Iris huffs, cheeks puffing, leaning away. 

“No one was hurt, and the harpies are alive and well and kept in a secure location. What more do you want?”    
  
“ _ No one _ was hurt?” Ava growls, and she pinches one puffy cheek between her fingers and  _ pulls _ . Iris whines, scrabbling at her hand. “I see you’ve forgotten to count yourself as  _ someone, _ so I don’t see why you should be upset you weren’t getting any attention.” 

“They were just first-degree burns, they’re basically a light scald,” Iris complains, before her whimpers escalate as Ava pulls once more.    
  
“Try that again,” Ava grits out. Iris deflates, and she sighs. 

“I won’t put my life in danger if-” 

“There is no  _ ‘if’ _ in this situation, Detective Lee,” Ava snaps. She releases Iris’s cheek, and Iris immediately rubs it to ease the sting. 

“Your life should not be recklessly thrown away like this, especially when it could have been entirely avoided if you’d  _ listened  _ to me.” 

“Those people were going to be harpy food if I didn’t step in.”    
  
“You should have brought someone with you!” 

“You were all busy dealing with the nest! People were in danger! What was I supposed to do,  _ wait? _ ”    
  
_ “Yes!”  _   
  
“You don’t think I’m good enough to face off against  _ one _ harpy?”    
  
“I don’t think you realise I only have this lifetime with you!” 

The sudden, snarled outburst shocks them both into silence. Ava’s hands feel like steel bands on Iris’s biceps, gripping her desperately like she wants to shake her. 

In the quiet aftermath, her fingers twitch like they just realised how hard they’re holding her, and Ava slides them down, tenderly grazing over the gauze, cradling the small hands in hers. 

“Ava.” Iris’s quiet voice is loud in the empty office. She lifts Ava’s chin, so they can see eye to eye. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in Ava’s eyes, soft and vulnerable. “I’m sorry.” 

Ava swallows, hard. “I know,” she replies, voice low. After a beat, she adds, “I don’t mean to undermine your ability, Iris. You are an excellent detective.” She manages a half-crooked smile. “You did manage to find me, somehow.”    
  
Iris grins, and she cups Ava’s cheeks in her hands, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Flatterer,” she teases, before her voice dips down to a more solemn note. “I  _ will _ be more careful, Ava. I don’t intend on leaving you because of some stupid mistake I made.” She presses a light kiss to the tip of Ava’s nose. “I’m going to stay here, as long as I can.”    
  
There’s a weighted, breathless pause.    
  
“You promise?” Ava’s voice is slightly hoarse, heartbreakingly hopeful, green eyes searching her face. 

“I promise,” Iris murmurs, kissing the corner of her mouth until Ava tilts her head and turns it into a real kiss, deep and soft and encompassing. 

When they break away reluctantly, Ava wraps an arm around her waist and lifts her up from the stepladder, giving it a dirty look. 

“Get off this rickety thing before you break your promise,” Ava grumbles. Iris laughs into Ava’s shoulder. “I’m going to find out who gave you this undignified idea.” 

“My lips are sealed,” Iris declares, dark eyes too wide to be innocent. Ava scans her devious look as she grabs the stepladder, shaking it so it snaps back into its folded position.

“Hm.” She pauses, gives a thoughtful hum, and a long, slow smirk stretches across her face. 

“What?” Iris looks worried, but Ava’s indifferent mask has slipped on, hiding her gloating. “ _ What? _ Ava!”   
  


* * *

  
Down in the sub-basement kitchen, a sudden chill seizes Nat’s spine. She suddenly can’t remember if the stepladder had her initials carved on the side. 

  
  



	6. Day 6: nightmare

Chapter Warning: M-rated for graphic violence and blood.

Rogue Detective AU, set after Book 1   
Not entirely canon-complaint.   
  


When exorcising a hoard of demons, it is always,  _ always _ good to do a little routine check with a little sea salt and holy water. 

Even the tiniest, weakest demon is powerful, as long as it can find a host. 

Detective Iris Lee doesn’t realise the little soot monster following on her heels, climbing onto her back, burrowing into her person. It lounges happily in her soft, abandoned thoughts, pulling and unravelling them one by one, like a tangled ball of string. 

Then, the demon weaves a nightmare.   
  


* * *

  
“They’re here for your protection.” 

Iris stares straight ahead of her, her lips pursed like she’s thinking, but all she wants to do is give a wry laugh. Rebecca says it like it is a  _ favour _ to her, a boon she never asked for but should know well to appreciate. The demon agrees, turning to whisper into her ear, a mocking version of Rebecca’s voice. 

_ I’ve hired a group of vampires to protect you, who are all very attracted to the scent of your blood, but trust me, they won’t turn on you. Not like the last vampire who wreaked havoc on your town, who experimented on you and nearly ripped your neck open, who tore poor Garrett Hayes’ head clean off his shoulders, who left his devastated mother all alone in the world.  _

Iris stiffens. Rebecca  _ is  _ unbelievable; still so stupidly righteous in her atrocious decisions that she expects everyone to follow, like the looming pack of Twilight wannabes do, like her dear, cheerful,  _ naive father- _

Iris swallows down the heaviness that threatens to swallow her whole, and puts on her best shy smile, soft and grateful. 

“I’ll feel so much better now that they’re around,” she lies, and Rebecca nods approvingly.   
  


* * *

  
To both Iris and the demon’s abject horror, instead of leaving, Unit Bravo has decided to set up a base in Wayhaven. 

“The supernaturals are attracted to this place,” Rebecca explains when she asks, looking at her so pointedly that she might as well have said  _ it’s your fault.  _ Iris has never wanted to curse her more, and yell  _ Sure, my fault, and not the sudden appearance of centuries old vampires crowding in this tiny town? We’ve been doing so well before, and now we’re being invaded because of  _ **_me, a variable who’s always been here?_ **

_ Think of Tina and Verda, _ the demon mutters angrily,  _ your two constants who brought you out of your empty shell, of Hayley, who always offers you coffee and a listening ear, no matter how busy her bakery is. _

_ Think of the residents who come to you for help, _ it implores,  _ who are pleading and trusting, who fill your empty apartment with gifts. The residents who feel better when they see you patrolling the streets to protect them from monsters, unaware that you walk alongside the monsters  _ **_yourself._ **

Iris snaps. 

The soft thud of footsteps breaks her from her thoughts, and she lifts her head to see Ava striding down the hallway, aviators on, her expression guarded and stoic as always.    
  
When Iris smiles at her automatically, she notices that the firm line to Ava’s mouth quivers, just the slightest. Her shoulders relax as she slows to a stop, hunching ever so slightly to meet Iris, something that she realises Ava does for no one else, no matter how short they are. 

“Detective Lee,” Ava greets, and there’s a tinge of concern in her words. “You looked...pensive.”    
  
“Oh.” Iris’s smile dims, and she self-consciously brushes her cloud of black waves away from her face. “I’m fine. Just thinking about how to protect the town from…” She gestures broadly. “All this.”  
  
Ava’s face creases into a concerned expression, and she reaches up to slip off her aviators, her other hand laying gently on Iris’s shoulder. Her warm, solid touch makes her relax despite herself. 

_ A vampire uses pheromones,  _ the demon hisses.  _ Hiding its true intentions.  _

“I... _ We _ will be here to guard you, uh, you and Wayhaven,” Ava corrects herself quickly. Iris doesn’t miss that slip up, her lips lifting. “You’ll do well to know there is a team behind you, so there isn’t a need for these baseless worries.” 

“Thank you, Agent.” Iris pats the strong palm that’s resting heavily on her shoulder. Ava gives a slow nod, face as impassive as always. But her eyes, those pretty jade eyes, they’re warm, greener than usual, softer than usual. 

Those eyes betray Ava. 

She moves away, pretending not to see the way Ava’s fingers linger in the empty space when she’s gone, twitching in mid-air. She pretends not to feel the searing way those eyes follow her, hungry and wanting. 

_ She could snap your neck in a second.  _

Iris’s left eye twitches. 

“Actually, could you do me a favour?” 

  
“Name it.” Iris tries not to smile at the way it’s said so hurriedly, like Iris would walk off and ask someone else instead. 

“I wanted to return the Agency-issued taser that Rebecca gave me, and I might want to look at the armoury, get myself acquainted with new technology.” She masks her deep breathing as a sigh, hoping her heartbeat won’t give away her lie. “I’d like to defend myself better, just in case. But I’m afraid I don’t have clearance from the armoury department yet.”

Ava gives a simple nod, but Iris can tell all she heard was “defend myself better” and she’s in. 

“Follow me, detective.” 

Iris’s heels click sharply next to Ava’s quiet boots, and when she realises Iris is chasing her long legs, she slows down, head tilted down to make sure Iris is catching up. She rewards Ava with a grin, feigning tripping over her heels so that she can curl her arm around Ava’s for support, fingers pressing into her bicep. She feels Ava flex involuntarily, a hitch in her breath when Iris clings to her, the contours of her soft body pressing against Ava’s hard muscle. 

Ava doesn’t complain, eyes fixed straight ahead, focusing firmly on matching Iris’s pace in a strangely chivalrous way. 

_ This one, _ the demon decides, though Iris’s traitorous heart sinks to her stomach at the thought,  _ this one will go down easy.   
  
_

* * *

  
It is not easy. 

She has Ava cornered against the empty warehouse, a stolen DMB spray aimed at her. Ava has an unreadable expression on her face, her eyes landing on the label, slowly trailing from the bottle to Iris’s face, studying her. 

“Where did you get that?” 

“Armoury.”    
  
Ava stills. “The one I let you in.”    
  
Iris doesn’t bother to respond. She ended her sentence with a full stop, it’s not a question. 

Ava slowly crosses her arms, eyes narrowed. “What is it you’re trying to do, detective? If you’re planning on killing me, you’ll need a lot more than that little bottle.” 

Ava is annoyingly calm, her brow arched, lips even crooked up into a half-smile, like she can’t believe the audacity of this little human. Iris holds steadfast, and it makes Ava’s fingers curl, nails digging into her palms. 

“I want Unit Bravo to leave Wayhaven.” The words strike Ava like a slap. “Never return.” 

“And what will you do if a supernatural attacks your town?”  _ Attacks you, _ Ava wants to say. Iris rattles the little bottle, and Ava hates the dangerous little smile lingering on the corner of Iris’s soft, full lips, a stark contrast against her gentle features. 

“I will take care of them, like how I’ll take care of you.” 

“You really think you can take them on?” Ava grits, broad shoulders tensing at the threat, muscles tight against her shirt. Iris just smiles, freely and easily. 

“Would you like to test it out?” 

The quiet that follows after is deafening, so heavy that neither of them feel like they can breathe. The game of silent statues is getting old, and just as Ava is getting ready to put an end to this nonsense, the warehouse door creaks open, and Nat comes lolloping in. 

“There you are! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” She comes right up behind Iris, smiling. “What are you guys playing at?” 

“Ava thinks I can’t defend my town against supernaturals.” Iris’s voice is unnervingly soft and friendly. She pockets the bottle of DMB before Nat can see it, and Ava feels herself lean against the wall, not realising how wound-up she was. “Would you still like me to prove myself?” Iris stares right at Ava, even though Nat is the one who replies.   
  
“Sure, if you can get a hit in,” she chuckles. Iris smiles up at her, and Nat beams back. 

She doesn’t see the switchblade, gleaming red with DMB. It slashes out in a round arc, and Nat avoids it purely out of instinct, but it catches her on the side of her head as she ducks. 

Nat stumbles back, impressively still on her feet, brown eyes wide and confused. She touches her wound and comes away wet, red coating her elegant fingers, so thick and heavy that she doesn’t seem to know what to do. 

She stands still, suspended, blood pouring down the side of her face, soaking into the shoulder of her leather jacket. Then all at once, like her strings are cut, she drops to the floor, eyes rolling into the back of her head. 

Ava roars her name, diving forward to catch her before she hits the ground. She cradles Nat’s head in her lap, her breaths coming out harsh and desperate as she pushes away Nat’s blood-soaked hair, trying to see if the wound is healing. 

It’s not. 

The quiet footsteps behind Ava makes her whip around, her lips and teeth bared in a pained snarl, but she quickly quietens when Iris slips the switchblade beneath the soft flesh under her jaw, lifting her head. 

Nat’s blood is still warm on the blade, sticky against her skin, and it’s everything Ava can do to stop herself from shuddering. She meets Iris’s gaze head on, but her glare only dissolves into hurt, green eyes vulnerable and anguished. 

_ “Why?” _ she rasps. 

Iris has stopped smiling, tired of the facade. The empty look on her usually-cheerful face, devoid of any emotion, is unsettling. 

“Two of my residents are dead. If I lose another civilian,” Ava can’t help the grunt as Iris presses the blade closer, DMB-laced metal stinging her skin, “I’ll take one of yours for penance.” She inclines her head towards Nat’s limp body, and Ava bristles. 

“You’re directing your anger at the wrong people,” she spits. 

“If you don’t want it to be directed at you, then leave,” Iris says dismissively. Ava growls up at her, before a high voice makes her tense, panicked. 

“Nat?” Farah peeks into the warehouse, amber eyes searching. “Hey!” She smiles as soon as she catches sight of Iris, waving. 

Ava is there in an instant, Nat’s limp body draped over her shoulder, her hand clutching Farah’s arm in a death grip. 

“Go, Farah.” 

“What? Wait, what’s wrong with Nat? Is that blood-” 

**“** **_Go,_ ** **Farah,”** Ava snarls. Farah takes one confused, frightened look between Ava and Iris, who’s still standing in the middle of the warehouse, blood sliding down her switchblade. 

Farah runs, Ava following close behind her. 

The demon crows in Iris’s ear, high on power. She lets out one loose, relieved breath when the vampires disappear from sight. The hand that’s gripping the switchblade is trembling, shaking like it’s frightened. Strange. Iris doesn’t feel frightened at all. 

Her face is wet, black curls sticking to her skin. She looks up at the exposed rooftop of the warehouse. A jagged square of blue sky glares back at her, blinding in its intensity. 

It’s not raining.   
  


* * *

  
Iris finds Ava outside her apartment building, peacoat wrapped tightly around her. The shadows of her sharp cheekbones are stark on her pale face. To an outsider, it seems like there’s nothing out of the ordinary about Ava, stoic and grim as usual, but Iris has always noticed Ava, devoured every detail about her. 

There’s one loose strand of hair curling up from the base of her tightly knotted bun. There’s a faint outline of a bobby pin, sticking out from the side. Her cargo pants are wrinkled, and her left boot is laced up in a looser, more haphazard pattern than the right. She’s shoved both hands in the deep pockets of her peacoat, but Iris can see the bulge in the fabric where her fingers are. They’re moving, tapping against her thigh as she waits. 

Ava is rattled. 

She approaches Ava, her hand in her own pocket, fiddling with the bottle of DMB spray. Ava’s eyes immediately hone in on her, an icy green blaze, but she waits for Iris to approach. 

“Agent du Mortain.” Iris smiles politely, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The muscle in Ava’s jaw twitches. She wonders if the attraction she saw in Iris, the shy flushes, her breath stuttering when Ava’s close, was all just in her head. 

It couldn’t be. It  _ couldn’t.  _

Farah had noticed something off with Iris, a quiet detachment, the way she stood there quietly, like an empty shell, expression unwavering when Farah waved. 

Ava’s going to find out what the hell happened even if it kills her. 

“Are you here to tell me of Bravo’s decision to move?” Iris’s voice is high and sweet, like she’s trying to cajole good news out of Ava.

“No.” Her smile dips immediately, finally matching the disinterested, disgruntled look in her eyes. “I’ve come...to make a compromise.” 

Her dark, dead-eyed stare is difficult to match, but Ava does it somehow. 

“Where’s Rebecca?” 

“I asked to be the one to speak with you.” 

_ She’s absent again, what a surprise,  _ the demon mutters into her ear.  _ You’re never worth your mother’s precious time.  _

Iris sighs, grimacing when the winter breeze hits her. She turns, and crooks a finger over her shoulder. 

“We can talk inside.”   
  


* * *

  
Ava stands in the middle of her minimalist apartment, facing the long, plain grey couch. The sunlight slants in through the window, the only splash of colour. 

As empty as the space is, Ava feels like the walls are closing in on her, surrounded by Iris’s scent and her things and being in her space. She shifts awkwardly, her hands clasping together behind her back, stiff and guarded, her default position. She watches Iris’s familiar dance in the kitchen, filling the kettle, hands flying to the cupboard, then kettle to stove, stove to her favourite mug, mug to teabag. 

Ava’s watched this little dance before, but everything feels different this time. 

“How’s Agent Sewell?” she asks lightly, like Nat is on a vacation somewhere, and not lying in the Agency’s hospital bed nursing a terrible headache. Ava bristles. 

“Alive.” 

“Good. I didn’t hit her that hard.” Steam clouds her face as she fills the mug with hot water. The scent of black tea permeates the air, sharp and fragrant. The extra sensory input grates on Ava’s nerves, evident by her nose scrunching, and Iris hides her smugness behind her mug, pretending to cool the hot tea with her breath. 

She brings her mug, brushing by Ava to sit on the single grey armchair, clearly not inviting Ava to sit with her. Ava shuts her eyes at the brief touch, but she pivots herself sharply to face Iris. 

“What are you offering?” Iris asks. 

_ My dignity, _ Ava thinks. 

Instead, she slips her hand inside her peacoat, and draws out a clear, sealed bag. There’s a pair of handcuffs inside, doused in a familiar, potent red. Iris lifts a brow, unimpressed. 

“What am I supposed to do with that?” 

“You’re afraid of us.” She offers the bag, and Iris frowns at it over the rim of her mug. “I’m proving to you that you have nothing to lose from our presence.”

Slowly, she reaches out to take the bag, the tips of her fingers brushing over Ava’s, warm from the hot mug. It sends a dull heat up Ava’s arm, and she tries not to twitch. 

“What’s the point of this?” Iris dangles the bag distastefully between her fingers. “Are you offering to be restrained?” 

“You can’t tell,  _ detective? _ ” The snark rolls out in her words, heavy and taunting. “I’m lowering myself to your level, so a pathetic human can rest easy.” 

Iris’s fingers tighten to a death grip around the bag, and she gives a disbelieving laugh, sharp and irritated. She opens her mouth, jaw tightening like she’s going to deliver a cutting remark, then she shuts it instead, standing up abruptly. Even in her three inch heels she’s nowhere near Ava’s height, but as she strides forward, Ava suddenly feels tiny, small in her presence. 

It dawns on her a little too late, that she’s uncomfortable because she’s never been on the end of Iris’s unbridled rage. She’s never  _ seen _ Iris’s rage. 

Something is off, and Ava can’t seem to figure out what. 

Dark eyes flicker over Ava, surveying her. Her fury is ice-cold, distant and calculative, and Ava is unpleasantly reminded of Rebecca. 

“Since you offered.” Iris smiles with her teeth, and it looks like a snarl. She lifts the sealed bag to her mouth, red lips leaving a faint imprint on the plastic, and rips it open. 

The DMB lashes out into the air, and Ava tries not to breathe it in. In one quick, practised flick, Iris snaps the handcuffs into place. 

Ava tries to lift her wrists, but she can barely do so. It feels like a lead weight on her arms. When Iris grips the chain between the cuffs, Ava is weighed down by her grip, red streaks climbing up her pale arms, fire against her skin. 

“You said you were going to lower yourself.” Iris tilts her head, dragging the chain closer, her breath a warm caress over Ava’s skin. “So lower yourself.” 

She hunches her shoulders, but Iris shakes her head, black curls dragging across her shoulders. Ava hates that she wonders exactly how they would feel in her hands, hates that she wants to brush them back. 

_ “Lower.”  _ Ava’s breath leaves her in a gush as Iris yanks, and she drops to her knees. 

She watches the petal-pink heels click on the burnished wood floor as they walk away, deceptively sweet looking. There’s a soft thump as Iris sits, elbow perched on the armrest, leaning her head against her fist, a satisfied smile on her face. 

_ So much for a Tier X vampire, _ the demon cackles. 

“So now that you’ve lowered yourself to a pathetic human,” Ava grits her teeth at the reminder, humiliation burning just as badly as the DMB crawling up her skin, “go ahead, tell me your compromise.” 

Ava shifts on her knees. “The unit remains in Wayhaven. All transmissions, mission briefings and action taken will be privy to you. You will receive the same access to Wayhaven’s affairs as Agent Lee.” 

“So I wasn’t privy to them before.” Ava bites her tongue before she can lash out again. 

“No,” she admits. “You will be now. And,” Ava adds this part reluctantly, “should you agree, you will lead the unit.” Her green eyes flicker up to Iris. “Including me.” 

Iris’s brows actually shoot up. “So you’ll give up your title of Commanding Agent?” 

“For the duration that Unit Bravo is in Wayhaven,” Ava grinds out. Iris purses her lips, and Ava relents. “Yes.” 

_ No, _ the demon insists.  _ The longer these monsters stay, the more danger they bring to me, the town,  _ **_us._ **

Iris hesitates. Ava is willing to give up her team, her entire life’s work for Wayhaven, for  _ her. _

_ Don’t be an idiot, _ the demon admonishes.  _ You think Ava du Mortain would ever give up her team for someone like you? How will you even know they’ll follow up on their promise? For all you know, that could be coloured smoke, a magic trick on Ava’s handcuffs. The Agency is a fancy, big government organisation, why else would they truly care about Wayhaven other than keeping it under their thumb?  _

Iris’s eyes cloud over. She frowns, and leans back. 

“No deal.” 

**“What.”** The word is more of a snarl, an angry sound ripped from Ava’s throat. “This is all for you, and the town you’re so stubbornly set about protecting!” 

“I don’t need your protection.” 

“If you think I’ll stand by and let you get yourself killed because of your foolish choices,” she hurls, fury spilling out of her, “you’re an incapable,  _ atrocious _ detective, and Wayhaven is going to die by  _ your _ hand!” 

There’s a slight pressure on her forehead, a sharp heel digging into the bridge of her nose. Ava’s words die in her throat. She doesn’t realise she’s lurched towards Iris, blinded by rage, and there she kneels, Iris’s heel pressed against her face. 

Her dark eyes flicker, and Ava recognises a split second of fear before it’s masked over. It makes her chest cave in a little, a sting of pain lancing through her. The heel pushes insistently, and Ava surrenders with it, going down, down and down, until her chin is almost level with the ground. 

“You really shouldn’t have sent yourself to negotiate.” She gives an amused smile. “Although, I did knock your best negotiator out.” She reaches over Ava to get her mug of tea. “My bad.” 

Even through the haze of DMB spreading over her senses, Ava sees her fingers trembling, ever so slightly, against the ceramic. 

“Tell me the real reason you want me to leave.” Ava realises belatedly that she’d said  _ me  _ instead of  _ us _ , but Iris’s lip twitches. 

“I’m not referring to just  _ you _ . God, you’re so full of yourself.” She narrows her eyes over the rim of the mug. “Here, if you want to hear it so bad: you’re a dangerous, soulless monster, and you never have Wayhaven’s real interests at heart. I  _ despise _ you.” 

An uptick in her heartbeat. 

“You’re lying.” Ava shifts forward, and the heel digs into her cheek, a warning. 

“You can’t even  _ fathom  _ that someone might hate you? Your arrogance is unbelievable.” 

There’s a familiar, faint scent of salt in the air. With great difficulty, Ava lifts her bound hands, wraps them around Iris’s ankle, and moves it aside so she can see her face. 

“You’re crying,” Ava murmurs, confused. Iris frowns, brushing the back of her hand roughly over her cheek to find it wet. She stares down at it, looking disorientated and vulnerable. 

There’s a sharp clink, a grunt, and suddenly Ava is there, crowding into her space, a large, gentle hand cupping her face, thumb brushing away the tears that continue to fall.

“You broke the cuffs,” Iris said wonderingly, and then she frowns. “You  _ broke _ the cuffs?” 

_ Told you they weren’t real,  _ the demon gloats. 

But when Iris grips Ava’s wrists to pull them away, a pained hiss leaks from her, and she sees the raw, irritated skin around Ava’s wrists, little beads of blood sitting on the deepest gauges. 

She’d hurt her. She  _ hurt _ Ava. Ava wasn’t lying. 

The nightmare unravels, and the demon grasps at the threads desperately, pulling them taut. 

_ She’s trying to beguile you,  _ it shrieks.  _ Her hands are too close to your neck. Do something!  _

Iris’s dark eyes unfocus, a film drawing over them, and Ava gazes at her worriedly, brows knit into a tight furrow. 

“Iris?” Her name falls soft from Ava’s lips, precious and unguarded between them. She doesn’t see Iris dig her hands under the seat cushion. 

The metal bat whistles as it cuts through the air, and Ava just manages to block it with her arm. The DMB makes her stagger back, crashing into the little coffee table and smashing it in half. 

Iris stands from the armchair, dark eyes cold and furious, even as tears continue to pour down her cheeks, dripping off her chin. 

“Get out,” she whispers. 

“No.” Ava grunts as she stumbles to her feet, brushing off splinters of wood. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” 

“ _ You _ are what’s wrong. You and your little pack of monsters,” Ava’s jaw twitches at the words, teeth grinding, “can get the fuck out of my town. I hate you, all of you.” 

Another uptick in her heartbeat. _ A lie. _ Ava feels her heart soar with hope despite itself. 

“I can end it right here if you don’t leave.” She raises her bat. “Or you can end me.” 

“I’m not fighting you,” Ava says, eyes cold, her voice as smooth and hard as granite. 

She can’t get another word in before Iris lunges at her. She ducks low, low enough that Ava can’t guard herself, and swipes out with her foot, knocking Ava’s feet out from under her. Ava fumbles, takes one step back, and Iris zeroes in on that one opening with no hesitation. She charges forward, DMB smoke curling off the metal bat, and barrels into Ava with all her strength. 

Ava goes crashing into the wall behind her, the apartment shuddering. Iris is glad her walls have nothing hanging on them, or else they would have been a pain to replace. 

She slides to the ground, her knot of hair unravelling, slipping out of her tight bun. She doesn’t even bother to get up, reaching up to touch her busted lip with a grimace. Glancing up at Iris, she sees her heft the bat over her shoulder, tilting her head smugly to hide the way her eyes linger on Ava’s wound. 

“Ready to get out now that I’ve asked you a hundred times? Or would you like to die on my carpet?” 

To Iris’s surprise, Ava doesn’t look angry at the taunt; just half-conceded, and a little impressed. She gives a grim smile, and shakes her head. 

_ She’s mocking you,  _ the demon cries,  _ coaxing you to let your guard down before she rips you apart.  _

It pisses Iris off even more. 

Growling, she raises the bat above her head and brings it down hard. In a split second, Ava is on her feet, hands gripping the bat even as the DMB sears and hisses when it meets her fingers. She grits her teeth and uses the bat to pivot Iris, pinning her against the wall. 

She struggles in the little dent that Ava has left behind, the DMB curling off the bat, poisoning the air between them both. 

The demon screeches, a sound that rips through Iris’s head like a jagged knife, and tries to inject its strength into Iris’s human body, pushing back hard against Ava. 

Its darkness sears through Iris’s veins, and leaks across her skin in criss-crossed black veins, spreading over her neck like a spider’s web unfurling. Ava’s eyes widen in horror, her breath catching at the hair-raising sight. When Iris still fails to push Ava backwards and free herself, the hollow darkness of her pupils expand, bleeding into the whites of her eyes. She snarls, shoving forward, and Ava actually has to take a step back. 

_ Demonic possession. _ Ava curses herself for not noticing earlier.    
  
“Iris,” she calls, but the demon answers. 

“I hate you,” Iris hisses cruelly. The shadows crack against her skin, running up the sides of her face. 

“No.” Ava grips her wrists and twists, forcing them to drop the bat. It falls with a resounding clank that thunders through the empty apartment. “Tell me the truth.” 

Iris freezes in her hold, and her hollow eyes fill with tears, spilling forth, never-ending. 

“I hate you,” she trembles, “I hate you. You’re a monster, and you scare me. I want you to leave.” 

Ava’s eyes soften with each spat out curse, and Iris doesn’t understand. Ava releases her tight hold, warm knuckles brushing tender against the growing cracks on Iris’s round cheek, its usual rosiness fading as the shadows spread. 

“Iris,” Ava intones, low and soothing, and Iris blinks at the softness, “tell me the truth.” 

She hesitates, breath hitching. The black veins draw back, just a little. “Ava,” she whispers, says her name like a plea. Ava cups her face and holds her onyx gaze, as empty and cold as a black vortex. 

“I’m scared,” Iris confesses, her voice cracking, and Ava’s heart splinters. “I’m scared.” 

“Of  _ me?”  _ Ava asks quietly. She releases her grip on Iris’s wrists and this time, she sinks to her knees on her own accord. She brings Iris’s shaking hands to her lips, brushing gently across her knuckles. “I vow on my life, I would never hurt you with intent.” 

Iris sucks in a shuddering gulp of air. “ _ I  _ hurt you. I hurt Nat. Oh god.” Her blank eyes fly open like she just remembered, and the black veins return in full force, cracking across her face.

_ They were going to kill you first, _ the demon spits venomously.  _ Kill them! Kill them kill them kill them- _

She snarls, drawing her fist back, but Ava catches her punch easily, her usually stoic expression broken and distressed. She lifts her up, wraps her in a tight hug even as Iris struggles, screaming in her arms, fists pummelling viciously down on her broad shoulders. Ava presses her face into Iris’s neck, unsure of what to do except to hold her as she falls apart. 

Leaving was not even an option that crossed her mind. 

When Iris sinks back, exhausted, Ava draws away, holds her teary face, thumb trembling as it traces the painful black veins pulsating under her skin. 

“Tell me the truth, little one,” Ava begs quietly. “Do you despise me?” 

There isn’t even a sliver of light in those eyes. Iris laughs, a broken little laugh. 

“I hate you,” she whispers hoarsely, though her brows are furrowed, her soft lips pursed in a confused frown. Her lipstick has cracked on the edges, feathering. Ava doesn’t know what comes over her, but she leans down to capture those soft, cracked lips, with all the tenderness she can muster. 

She pulls away a moment later, and Iris looks dazed. 

“And now?” Ava asks. Iris curls her fingers into Ava’s shirt, and tugs her down.    
  
Iris lets out a wondrous little sigh as she sinks into Ava’s kiss, and Ava answers with a low, anguished groan, like she knows she shouldn’t be doing this, but she can’t pull away. 

“I like you, Ava,” Iris murmurs truthfully against Ava’s lipstick-smeared mouth. “I like you so much.” 

“Oh,” is all Ava can say, breathless, before Iris gives a full-bodied shudder, eyes rolling back in her head.    
  
She yanks away from Ava, crawling on her hands and knees, before she throws up a black, messy goop, its shadowy tendrils falling away from her. The demon shrieks, useless and helpless without its human host. 

Ava leaps to her feet and crushes it under her boot in a second. It disintegrates with a hiss, black goo exploding and sliding everywhere on the carpet. 

“Ugh,” Iris moans pitifully, recoiling from the stench of sulphur and bitter rage, “I really liked that carpet.” 

Ava gathers her up in her arms, burying her nose in Iris’s soft curls shakily. “I can get you a new one,” she says, and Iris gives a croaky laugh, burrowing into Ava’s safe, warm embrace.    
  
The nightmare is broken. 


	7. Day 7: shatter/mend

_from an immortal to their beloved_

The day I can no longer mend you,  
I’ll shatter. 

My immortality exists only  
In your breakable hands.  
My breath will stop with yours,  
My heart will be silent,  
As long as you are. 

If fate has mercy,  
It will let me follow  
Wherever you might have gone.  
So that my pieces can find you  
And be whole again. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :) 
> 
> comments and kudos are very appreciated <3
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr @rosejellyy


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